God's Crayons

A Story by Nightscape

Short, upbeat piece about supernatural creatures bouncing between up there and down here.

Used to be, whether it was Mama’s alarm clock in the next room, that fool dog barking in the next door yard, or trucks winding down the street outside my old house, I could never sleep late. Nice thing about the way it is now, I sleep whenever I want, and as late as I want. It’s not just the sleeping that’s good, but all us kids have a big yard to run in, and the louder we yell and dirtier we get, the happier everybody seems to be. Ain’t nobody telling us to come in and calm down. It’s never cold or hot and there’s always plenty to eat. I guess any old fool would have to call it Heaven.

About the only time you got to do anything you don’t want to is when God comes looking for you, and he usually does that early in the morning. Like he’s doing right now. I try to play possum and act like I don’t hear him but there ain’t no point. When he talks, it’s quieter than a moth sneezing but try and not hear it when it’s you He’s talking to. “Get on up, girl,” He says, “and get my crayons. New day’s coming and I need your help.”

“Go get somebody else,” I tell him, burying my face in the old blue blanket. “I’m tired of doing what you say all the time, I’m sleepy,” and God laughs so hard he gets the thunder and lightning started up.

“Now look what you did,” I tell him. “Why you need me? Why can’t Jesus do it? He’s better than all us put together.”

God says “Jesus is busy, child. Some old fools opened up another hole in the woods last night, now things from underneath is roaming around stirring things up and scaring people. Now get up and do what I say.”

I roll out of bed and start digging around for the crayons, which nobody ever puts back in their right place no matter what you tell them. Right when I’m about to give up and ask God if he knows where they’re at, I see them stuffed between a box of harps and a vat of pestilence, so I pull it out real careful and fly off.

Now I know Jesus would leave the rainclouds be but this is my day so I look at them things and say “Get gone, now” and color the sky Madder Lake Blue, bluer than angel eyes, make big, puffy clouds with Lizard Bone Ivory, and color in orange streaks like I used to always like with Tiger Fur Orange.

With the sky so beautiful, down below Georgia looks worse than it ever did so I go to work on the mountains with Cave Rock Dirt and touch up the edges with Santa’s Beard White. Suddenly I feel that old sun on my back and he whispers “Time’s about up, girl” and there’s no negotiating with him, so I jump off them hills and run, cause there’s hardly no time left to sneak over to Mama’s house and pretty things up a little like I always do.

Standing there in front of it, there ain’t nothing to be done with the sagging porch or torn screens, but I dash a little Dinosaur Nose Brown on the scraggly tree bark and Dragonscale Green on the leaves. Digging through the box for something to fix up the grass, I get a whiff of bacon cooking and I realize Mama’s awake and alone in there making breakfast and the stove’s heating up that tiny kitchen so your face is warm but your feet’s still cold on the linoleum.

Up on tiptoes I’m peeking through windows but can’t see nothing, so I run around the house whispering “Mama, Mama, where you at?” She don’t hear me, so then I’m knocking on the front door and that’s when Jesus shows up, six smelly demon heads on a rope slung over his shoulder.

“Guess your work is all done,” I tell him.

“Sure is,” he says. “So’s yours. Now come on home, girl. All that knocking and running around won’t do nothing but scare her.”

I stomp my foot and start turning the door knob back and forth real slow. “I wanna see Mama.”

He puts a hand on the doorknob and smiles that big Jesus smile. “If you go inside you’ll get stuck down here, and you know there ain’t no happiness in that.”

I stomp again, kind of half-assed this time. “But I miss her. Don’t you smell that bacon cooking? Can’t nobody make bacon like her.”

Jesus pulls me in close and gives me one of those big Jesus hugs and tells me what a good job I did, how beautiful everything looks. “Never seen anybody use Dinosaur Nose Brown before. It’s my favorite. Now let’s go home, girl.”

There’s no fighting with Jesus, so just like that, we’re flying away through the sky, back towards home.